


so sweet, it makes my head spin

by serenoa



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Cooking, Fluff, M/M, Married Couple, basically robin cant cook and chrom is an angel: the fic, this is a comm. i have never wrote a chrobin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:27:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23101675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenoa/pseuds/serenoa
Summary: “No, no...I can do this. Really, how hard can peanut butter cookies be?”“Apparently, very.”“That’s enough, now, Morgan.”
Relationships: Chrom/My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	1. I. marmalade and sugar song

“What’s the verdict?”

“Pretty bland.”

“Ugh.”

Robin grumbled under his breath, sliding the cookie sheet back across the counter to remind himself to scrap the batch.

“Did you remember the salt?” Gaius had asked around a bite, skeptically.

“What? No. They’re cookies--”

“They still need salt, Dad,” Morgan quipped. Swiveling back and forth on their stool, they took another bite with a grimace. “And somehow you managed to make this one too sweet.”

_ Sigh _ .

“Look man, baking is hard. I get it. But you can’t use common sense with it. It’s a lot like your writing, actually! Whatever happens, happens, but-- ya know--” Gaius spoke up, moving to hold Robin by their shoulders.

“What does that even mean, Gaius?”

“ _ It means _ , that you can’t over think it to the point of fuc- sorry,  _ messing  _ up. Relax.”

Robin narrows his eyes at Gaius with uncertainty, huffing again in frustration as he pulls away to overlook the recipe again.

“Morgan, when do you need the cookies again?”

“Did you already forget? Old age must really be taking its toll.”

Gaius snickered, offering Morgan a fist bump as Robin cut a glare towards them.

“Ah hah. Very funny, kiddo.”

Morgan laughs, smiling with a wave of their hand; as if blowing off their own sarcasm. “Owain’s birthday is on the 15th, so a few days from now! But really Dad, it’s okay if we buy cookies instead.”

“Yeah, man, I mean-- If you want, I can always whip up a batch for you?” Gaius offered. He was a baker: for context. Gaius was actually invited over as a judge of Robin’s skills, being an expert in confectionary and all. His final verdict? Abysmal. 

Robin was stubborn, however, and maybe a little more than hesitant to admit defeat so easily.

“No, no...I can do this. Really, how hard can peanut butter cookies be?”

“Apparently, very.”

“That’s enough, now, Morgan.”

✰

Morgan was right, apparently, in that the task of baking cookies was more difficult than initially perceived. For Owain’s birthday, Morgan had promised Lissa that their father could cook one of her son’s favorite dishes ( _ “Tender, rosemary chicken in the noblest of butter sauces, followed by crisp, herb-garlic bread,” _ Owain had said to them.  _ “Oh, and mashed potatoes!” _ ) since she’d be busy the day prior, in addition to a batch of sweets of Owain’s choice.

Robin was shocked to hear he had been volunteered, but not so surprised to hear it was Morgan who had offered him up. Both twins were up to some scheme, it seemed, and Robin grew accustomed to it through the course of fatherhood. He quite often found it endearing.

Anyway.

“No, that’s not right either…” Robin mumbled to himself, setting the tasting spoon he had been using aside.

What could be off? The salt to broth ratio? Or maybe the amount of bouillon dissolved into the base? Perhaps even the cream was--

“You look pretty occupied there, Robin.”

_ Chrom. _

“Oh, gods-- I didn’t even notice you walked in,” Robin startled, not having a chance to turn around as Chrom leaned his head onto his shoulder. He must have just returned from work; Robin supposed it must have been that time, since Morgan went off to do homework with their siblings and Gaius headed out after jotting down some tips.

“Mm, don’t worry about it,” his husband replied, gently pressing a kiss to his cheek in return. “Since when did you cook?”

“Since yesterday, I believe. It’s for Owain’s birthday.”

“Oh! Right, Lucina told me about that. What made you suddenly decide to cook, then?”

Robin chuckled. “I didn’t. Morgan chose for me. I figured honing a new skill wouldn’t hurt so much, though.”

Chrom nodded, humming an affirmation as he reached for the spoon Robin used earlier.

“You-- you probably don’t want to taste that.”

“Why not? I’m sure it’s delicious. You made it.”

“Chrom…”

Robin turned slightly behind him, watching the other man as he gauged his reaction to the sauce.

“Hm.”

“...Just ‘ _ Hm? _ ’”

“You used quite a bit of salt.”

_ Fantastic. _

“So it’s not good?”

“No, don’t worry, it just needs a little saving! Where’s our sugar?”

Chrom pulled away to start sifting through cabinets; picking up spices or other things with a squint as if judging whether or not it’d be useful.  _ Since when could _ he  _ cook? _

“Alright, there we go! Are you only practicing right now?”

“Yes. I was trying to see what technique would work best for the sauce while still remaining time efficient as compared to the chicken.”

Robin watched as Chrom laughed through his nose (no doubt finding his husband’s conciseness humorous in this situation), measuring out a bit of sugar to stir into the cream sauce and tasting it a moment after.

“I think that’s better. Want a taste?” He asked, smiling affectionately to him. Before Robin could act, however, Chrom took it upon himself to tilt his chin up and offer the spoon; no doubt a signal that Robin would try the sauce for himself regardless of his response. “Well?”

“That’s… really good, Chrom! How did you happen to know that would fix it?”

Chrom beamed, fulfilled by his husband’s praise as he continued. “Emmeryn taught me how to cook when I was younger. A lot of people think that pepper is what balances salt, but really it’s sugar that dulls the flavor. It’s...just a trick I use if I mess up, myself, hahah.”

“Noted. Thank you for the help.”

“When will you make the real deal? Perhaps I can help you.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. You’ll be busy that day I’m sure, I shouldn’t keep you from your work.”

“Nonsense, Robin! I would want nothing more than to spend time with you, always. You know that.”

Robin sighed, looking away in an effort to hide his smile. “Well, when you say it like that--”

“Then it’s agreed on! Gods, now I’m excited.”   
  
“...You’re just being ridiculous now, Chrom.”

“Yet you still love me.”

Robin laughs openly, and sighs. “Yes, maybe I do. Thank you, Chrom.”

“Of course, my love,” He says, pulling Robin into a hug. “Don’t worry so much.”


	2. II. peanuts and bitter step

“How am I supposed to cream butter?”

“You...cream it.”

Robin throws a glare at Chrom, looking up from the paper recipe long enough to do so.

“You’re lucky I’m too stressed to be sarcastic with you right now.”

“Do you want me to show you?”

“Please.”

Chrom wanders over, leaning over Robin’s shoulder long enough to look over the sheet he holds while adjusting the apron strings behind his back ( _ ‘Kiss the Chef,’ it reads, because of course it does _ ).

“Right, so we’ll put the peanut spread and sugar in the bowl with the butter, and whisk it really hard,” He says with ease, smiling and sure of himself. “Piece of cake.”

Passing the whisk over, Robin handles the bowl, affirming twice over that he used the proper amounts of everything. Chrom then takes over from there, putting all his effort into combining everything into a tacky mixture before adding the dry ingredients.

“We’ll let this chill for an hour, then come back and bake them. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Robin is noticeably tense, Chrom notes; especially when he jumps at his touch, hand on Robin’s shoulder.

“Something is on your mind. C’mon. Tell me.”

His husband lets out a soft laugh under his breath, fingers absentmindedly rubbing at the hem on his sweater. “It’s something silly.”

“Nonsense. Nothing is silly if you’re upset. Now, out with it.”

“Mm...I just. Am a little disappointed in myself, I suppose.”

“Huh? Why?”

Robin grumbles to himself, averting Chrom’s gaze as he goes on. “Just...I promised Morgan I would do this for them. I didn’t want to have to ask for help.”

Chrom lets out a soft  _ ‘Oh’ _ in understanding; grip on the other’s shoulder momentarily tightening in comfort.

“Robin...you know, it’s okay to ask for help if you need it.”

“Yes, but…”

“No ‘buts’. Of course, I understand your worry, but I promise you it’s alright. I don’t mind, and I’m sure our Morgan hardly does, either.”

He watches a smile slowly bloom across Robin’s face, cheeks reddening the faintest bit in embarrassment.

“If you say so.”

“I do say so! You're brilliant in so many ways, Robin; I promise asking for assistance on the off hand occasion does not define the whole of your character. There are many ways in which you surpass me, as well. I hope to help you understand this.”

“Okay, okay! Don’t go monologuing on me, now.” Robin laughs, playfully pushing against Chrom’s chest.

“Alright, I’ll back off. As long as you promise to ask for help when you need it. Right?”

“Right.”

“There’s still a good 40 minutes on the timer, so...what would you like to do while we wait?”

Robin looks up in thought, humming. “Maybe you can help me with my manuscript. I could use a second opinion.”

“Right to work, I see! Alright. Let’s have at it.”

☆

“Morgan, be careful with the dough. If you go too slow it’ll heat back up in your hands and be harder to roll.”

“Yes, Dad.” They reply, wiping a smudge of batter off their cheek as they work, plopping sizable rounds of dough onto a cookie sheet.

“Morgan, don’t use your sleeves.” Lucina says as she offers her sibling a napkin; fork in her opposite hand as she works on the criss-cross patterns over the top of the sweets.

Robin leans against the counter top, eyeing the oven’s temperature gauge from time to time as it preheats.

“Chrom, I think it’s ready whenever you are.”

He receives an affirmative hum in response; the man multi-tasking by helping grease down a pan for a second batch. Soon after, the battered bowls were emptied, and the cookie sheets slid into the oven.

“Good work!” Chrom says, beaming while patting Morgan on the head; Lucina working to pat the flour out of her clothes.

Robin is smiling again, satisfied with the group’s effort. “It was a good idea to have everyone work together. Thank you, both.”

The latter of his praise was aimed towards his kids, who both smile at him as Morgan pulls from Chrom’s grasp to hug around Robin’s waist.

“Thank you, Dad!” They say, giggling as they cling.

“Ah, of course Morgan, but why are you saying thank you?”

“Because you helped me! And because I had fun. Even if Lucina bossed me around some.”

_ (A shocked ‘Hey!’ sounds from the sister in question, pausing her conversation with her other father.) _

“Oh. Morgan, of course...I’m glad you had fun,” Robin says, returning the hug before stepping back. “I’m sure our combined efforts paid off well.”

Morgan nods, full of enthusiasm and mirth, before pulling Lucina away by the sleeve and running off to do something else.

“They only get rowdier,” Chrom speaks up, untying the apron from around his waist.

“True. Morgan definitely takes after you.”

Chrom narrows his eyes at him, letting out a soft laugh.

“In that case, Lucina must take after you with perfectionism.”

“Maybe so. But is that such a negative trait?”

“Are you implying rowdiness is a negative thing?”

“ _ Well _ , sometimes with you…”

“Robin!” The hurt tone of his voice is fake; given away by his rising laughter. “You wound me with such accusations.”

Robin sets the timer as he smiles, letting Chrom prop his chin on his shoulder again.

“You owe me for that.”

“How so?”

He looks back to watch Chrom in mock thought, who suddenly perks up as he finally conjures up some fitting payment.

“Spar with me.”

“Wh- spar? With what?”

Chrom pulls back, grabbing a spatula used prior from the adjacent counter. Realizing Chrom is serious in his playful episode, he reaches for whatever is closest; coming upon a heavy cookbook that he takes in hand and falls back to the opposing end of the kitchen in defense.

“If you think a book will save you, Robin, you’re wrong!” Chrom calls, following behind him as Robin flees down the hall.

“We’ll see about that, now, Chrom!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unpictured is chrom catching robin bc ofc he does and bc this is modern setting books for real cant help him so robin just has to deal with getting kissed all over his own face instead
> 
> follow my [twitter](https://twitter.com/lNlGO) if you'd like! and [here](https://twitter.com/lNlGO/status/1227337047511359488?s=20) is my commission info! huge ty to my friend joey for educating me on robin for this dsx cfgvb

**Author's Note:**

> chrom robin gay
> 
> this was another commission i got from a friend! so far it's been fun to write <3
> 
> follow my [twitter](https://twitter.com/lNlGO) if you'd like! and [here](https://twitter.com/lNlGO/status/1227337047511359488?s=20) is my commission info if interested :)


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